Chapter 3: Can We Get Coffee?
Navigating Caffeinated Requests to Discuss My Sexuality
As I mentioned in my last post, several factors complicate my church search. Not everything I share will apply to everyone, but I share as honestly as I can in hopes of encouraging our community. I highly recommend you read the posts in order!
“Can we get coffee?”
I love coffee and good conversation. I’ve been known to loiter in my share of coffee shops, ordering a new drink every 90 minutes as a sort of coworking space rental, so you would think this request would always fill me with joy. You’d be mistaken. But “Can we get coffee?” is a question held with some infamy in the circles of LGBTQ+/SSA Christians I know.
In my last entry, I wrote about the questions I ask of a church before visiting. I don’t pretend my email is revolutionary in any way. It’s really just a short, direct request for what I think should be standard information. In my pre-visit email, I want to understand a church’s beliefs about sexuality and marriage and their engagement with LGBTQ+/SSA folks. I want to know if a celibate gay man like me, who follows a historic sexual ethic, can expect to become a member, serve in ministry, and generally be treated with the same dignity as any other attendee.
Yet, instead of a straightforward answer to these direct questions, I’m often offered an intermediary step: coffee with the pastor who’s responding to me (usually so they can “hear my story” and “share more about the heart of [their] church.”)
Kindness Or Clarity?
Before I go any further, let me just say that some of the kindest, most loving pastors I know would respond to my email with "Can we get coffee?" This response is particularly common among churches with a certain kind of growth model. In fact, it's gotten to a point where I can look at a church's website and pretty accurately predict that they'll be a can-we-get-coffee church. I'm not interested in shaming these pastors- many of whom are my friends or colleagues. I think there are some really great intentions behind the desire for further conversation before offering clarity:
People and their stories matter. When we discuss a church's beliefs about the LGBTQ+/SSA experience, we discuss the real lives of people made in God's image. We're not debating a theory or a fun hypothetical. Short responses can feel invalidating to the beautifully complex stories of the LGBTQ+/SSA folks around us.
The historic Christian sexual ethic is, too often, weaponized. So, many pastors who desire to see God's work in the lives of LGBTQ+/SSA Christians are aware that simple belief statements (and not-so-simple ones) have been a source of pain in our community. They don't want to inadvertently trade "The Adhoc Email Statement" for someone they'd really love to connect with.
Face-to-face conversation beats email communication. As someone who puts his foot in his mouth on the daily, I totally understand that a face-to-face conversation is more easily understood. Compassion can be better communicated, and nuance can be more readily engaged over a cup of coffee than over a keyboard.
With all that in mind, I don't fault a church that asks me to get coffee when I seek clarity on their beliefs. In fact, I understand and assume that the pastor is meaning to offer me more effort and kindness, believing I deserve better than an email.
But it seems like sometimes my pastor friends feel torn between offering me clarity or kindness as if the two are mutually exclusive. But as the modern sage Brene Brown says, "Clarity is kind." I truly believe that the kindest response to a direct question (assuming it's a reasonable one) is a direct answer. In particular, I believe that LGBTQ+/SSA people deserve to know what a church believes precisely because this conversation is so sensitive and nuanced. And by the way—that doesn't mean you can't invite me to coffee! It's possible to offer an answer and an invitation—in fact, I think it's kindest to do so! Withholding information and requesting a meeting sometimes feels like an ultimatum—an exchange.
Bearing One Another's Burdens
Much of my framing for how we live in community comes from Galatians 6:2, which commands us to "bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." This command, which comes in the midst of discussing sin, teaching, and responsibility in the church, stands as a stark reminder that I cannot think only of myself and my comfort.
Galatians 6:2 is vital to remember as we think about sensitive conversations because discomfort is something we all like to avoid—it's human nature. Conversations about faith and sexuality are rife with discomfort. I mention this because I think it's good pastoral care—and Christian obedience—to carry the burden of discomfort alongside those for whom this conversation is not optional.
I want to be someone who carries the burdens of those around me—and I need to be someone who invites others to carry my burdens. Too often, LGBTQ+/SSA people shoulder burdens by ourselves—either because we are forced to or because we don't know how to do otherwise. I talk to hundreds of members of our community each year, and so many of us feel uncomfortable taking up space. Our internalized homophobia convinces us that we need to quietly absorb all the discomfort in the room.
I'm a better part of Christ's Church when I bear the burdens of others and invite them to bear mine. So, I don't want to start my relationship with a local church by individually bearing the burden of a vulnerable conversation that costs me more than anyone else involved. I want to invite the Church to carry my experience with me—and clarity goes a long way in doing so.
Form Email # 2
This all leads me to my response. When, in response to my email inquiry, a pastor asks to get coffee so that we can talk about faith and sexuality, I decline—and instead ask them once again for clarity. (Disclaimer #77: I'm not at all saying this is what ALL LGBTQ+/SSA folks should do, just offering my own experience).
To a pastor who requests coffee to clarify their beliefs, I respond with a second email:
"Hi Pastor ________,
Thanks for your response! I appreciate the sensitivity of this request, and I appreciate your desire to get together. That said, it's often very vulnerable and uncomfortable to discuss such a personal part of my story with someone I don't know, so I'd rather not meet until I know some basics about where you're at in this conversation. I hope you can understand, and welcome further clarity. Blessings on your ministry!"
As a side note, I promise I don't have 17 form emails for different occasions. But I've been church searching for over two years and have visited over 20 churches, so it's been helpful.
In sending this email, my desire isn't to shut down any attempt at a relationship. In fact, I'm trying to honestly communicate an opportunity for the pastor to care for me. As someone who has experienced religious trauma, clarity feels to me like a measure of dignity. By responding to my email and honoring how uncomfortable this conversation could be for me, the pastor is meeting me in my tiredness, weariness, and desire to find a spiritual home.
In fact, some of my favorite pastor interactions (including, yes, an eventual coffee) have come after this email! Several pastors are quick to compassionately recognize the vulnerability required to share my story with a stranger and offer clarity about their beliefs and policies after this email. I've slightly paraphrased one such response here:
"You are right that this is a very sensitive topic, and I'll be rethinking how I handle the coffee thing. I'll explain our beliefs briefly, but I also ask that, if you're willing, we talk in person sometime. I honestly hate email when it comes to important discussions. And as a straight man, I am never sure if I sound like I am underplaying the struggle of a celibate gay person or if I sound like I'm making homosexuality seem to be the worst sort of sin. I'd hate to do that, and emails make miscommunication easy…"
It takes humility to hear someone say, "No, I'm not comfortable having the conversation you are asking for," and still show up pastorally for them. Human relationships can often be uncomfortable.
This pastor was clear about his concerns and his desire for further contact, but he also honored me by acknowledging the vulnerability he requested of me. He offered me dignity by respecting my privacy and my story, and in doing so, he increased the trust between us.
So… Can We Get Coffee?
Let's be clear that coffee isn't always the wrong answer. As we see above, one can offer coffee and clarity—you can be clear and kind, and in fact, I think you should. The real thing we need to recognize is that we sometimes ask an already vulnerable person to make themselves even more vulnerable—and that is not the way to establish trust, love, or pastoral care.
And yeah… just this week, I had coffee with a pastor after visiting his church on Sunday.
I sent him my first email a week or two ago, and he sent a brief statement about their beliefs while saying he'd much rather have a fuller conversation—over coffee or over the phone. We weren't able to make the phone call work in a timely manner, but his clear answer (and his genuine attempt at connecting after his answer) were more than enough to win a visit. I was blessed by the service—his sermon was actually really encouraging and convicting—and I was blessed by the coffee after.
I hope this is how I can live in the Church - with a humble insistence on my own dignity, but a fervent hope for greater connection. Honest about my needs, and gracious about the offenses along the way. I want to belong to a church that will shepherd me and bear my burdens with me. I'll lift a cup to that.
